


The Adventures of Ghost Dean and Sammy

by Insanefangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Dead Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester’s Parent, F/M, Ghost Dean Winchester, John Winchester Tries, Not Really Character Death, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25992847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insanefangirl/pseuds/Insanefangirl
Summary: Sam is in his second year of Stanford and everything is okay. Then he gets a call that Dean is dead, the impala shows up outside his apartment and he knows it’s true. Months later when Dean turns up a ghost Sam is torn between selfish relief and a desire to see his brother at peace, but it turns out Dean‘s fate may be out of their hands
Relationships: Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44
Collections: Fanfics_I_like(Jacquelyn_Winchester)1





	1. A Darker World

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t own supernatural or characters

Sam unstuck his term paper from his cheek. Apparently it had glued itself there with his drool after he had fallen asleep on it sometime after two in the morning. His roommate had either been too tired to care, or he just thought it was too funny and let him sleep in the doomed position. 

“Ugh.” Sam groaned. A quick inspection of the paper told him it was salvageable. Brady had offered to loan him his laptop for typing paper, but he had spilt milk on it so Sam was stuck writing his three page essay by hand like the good old days. 

Sam looked at the alarm clock to find he had three hours until class. Brady only had fifteen minutes and from the snoring through the door Sam could guess he was blissfully unaware. Pay back time. 

Taking up a pencil, Sam entered the room and launched it at his roommate’s sleeping form. It took four pencils, two pens, and a notebook but eventually Brady startled awake. 

“Dude,” Brady glared at him through his bed head. “What the hell?” 

Sam motioned his head to the clock and Brady noted the time. 

“Who cares? I’ll make it next week.” He moved to lay back down. 

“Don’t you have Carnell?” Sam asked, knowing full well his roommate did. 

“Shit!” Brady scrambled out of his nest of blankets and frantically looked for some pants. 

Sam enjoyed the spectacle that was his rushed roommate. Revenge was definitely best served cold. Brady threw him a middle finger as he fled out the door. 

Sam laughed again and stretched. He probably had time to finish his paper and catch a quick nap before his class. Taking the time to rub and stretch the kinks from his neck and shoulders he did a mental check list of his day. 

It wasn’t too packed. He only had two classes and after he finished his paper that was his only big assignment for the next week. He didn’t work until Saturday so he figured he might go out tonight. 

A buzzing caught his attention. A pat down of his pockets told him his phone wasn’t on him. He wandered about the small apartment in search of the origin of the buzzing. 

It ended up being underneath his physiology textbook. The name on the front read Dean. Why was Dean calling at seven in the morning on a Thursday? He flipped the phone open. 

“Hello?” Sam began gathering his books and papers from the table to move back to his room. “Dean?” 

“Sam?” That wasn’t Dean’s voice. 

“Dad?” Sam adjusted the phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear. “What are you doing with Dean’s phone?” 

“Sam-“ A chocked sound came through the other end that sent ice through Sam. 

“Dad, where’s Dean?” Sam desperately wanted some gruff John Winchester patented answer of Dean being fine and to not be a worry wart. 

“Sam.” A deep breath sounded on the other end. “Sammy, your brother...” 

“Dad, spit it out!” Sam snapped before his voice softened to barley a whisper. “Just- Just tell me he’s okay.” 

“We were hunting a nest of vampires.” John started after a long second. “Your brother- your brother didn’t make it.” 

Books and papers scattered to the ground. With a mind of its own, Sam’s hand moved up to grasp his phone tightly. 

“Dad-“ Sam couldn’t feel anything. 

“I’m on my way over with the impala.” Now that he mentioned it, Sam could hear the familiar rumble through the phone. “Dean would want you to have it.”

“His body?” Sam got out. 

“Hunter’s funeral. I couldn’t wait, Sam. It was... it wasn’t good. It was in Maine and-“ Sam wasn’t sure if it would be easier for his mind to accept with a body to watch burn, but he appreciated the sentiment. 

“Okay.” Sam breath out. 

“I’ll be there by tomorrow morning.” His dad didn’t ask for an address and Sam knew he didn’t need one. 

“Okay.” 

It sounded like his dad was going to say more, only silence. Finally the phone clicked and the line dropped dead. 

Silence. Sam felt very far away. As if he was just someone looking through a window into this moment. 

Everything felt numb. Like the buzzing of a television with a bad signal. The noise he used to hear in motel rooms. Motel rooms he had shared with Dean. 

Sam thumbed at his phone for his emails with Dean. When was the last time he had talked with his brother? What was the last thing he had said to him? 

Six months ago. They had been messaging about a hunt Dean had gone on. With a haunted sex shop. Dean had gone into all the dirty details that had made Sam uncomfortable. 

The last thing Sam had said was: “I hope your burger gives you indigestion, jerk”. 

The last thing Dean had said was: “better then eating rabbit food, bitch”. 

That was the last thing he had said to his brother. Six months ago he had wished indigestion on him. That broke his dam that had been unbelievably preserved until then. 

He sank to the floor in the middle of his empty apartment and sobbed. 

———-

When Brady came back an hour later, he didn’t open Sam’s closed room. He assumed Sam was working away. 

When he heard crashing from the inside he burst in with a fork brandished as his weapon. Sam had torn apart his room. His eyes were red rimmed and he couldn’t stop crying. 

When Brady asked what was wrong, Sam couldn’t form words for a very long time. Eventually he just mouthed ‘brother’ ‘my brother’ until Brady understood somewhat and left with a invitation to talk. 

Sam tried to sleep. He was exhausted from his sobbing and grief. He really did try, but everytime he closed his eyes all he could see was a image of Dean, bloody with glassy green eyes. 

Eventually he gave up. He couldn’t stay inside anymore. Tugging on shoes he found himself walking around Palo Alto in the dead of night. 

The world felt so much darker now. It was the same feeling he had when he had found out about monsters and all the evil things that lurked in the dark. Now his big brother wasn’t here to rub his back and promise it would be better in the morning. 

He wished something would attack him in the night. A restless anger lurked under his skin the he wanted to take out on some son of a bitch. Of course nothing did, so he ran. He ran and ran until his lungs burned and his feet tingled. 

As dawn broke he found himself back in front of his apartment building, sweat soaked and gasping for breath. He dragged himself to the front stairs and folded himself against the building, allowing the cool air to nip at his clammy skin. 

————

He must have fallen asleep because he woke again with another kink in his neck. Sam rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before he remembered yesterday. 

Part of him believed it was a dream. A nightmare that his mind has conjured up. Dean was fine. Dean was fine because he was Batman and Batman was indestructible. 

The sight of the impala in front of him shattered his desperate dreams. It sparkled in the early spring sunlight. In perfect condition, just like Dean kept it in.

It was only then did Sam notice the coat slung around his shoulders. It had been Dad’s. Dad’s leather jacket. Now it smelt like Dean though: gun oil, cheap aftershave, and just Dean. The smallest dark smudge on the collar told Sam a lot. It painted a gruesome picture. 

He scrunched his shoulders and burrowed himself into the jacket. It had probably been too big on Dean. It fit Sam just about perfect. 

Shoving his hands into the pockets he felt a gun. He didn’t have to pull it out to know it was Dean’s Colt. Next to it were keys. 

For a while he just sat there. Staring out through the impala. She sat there, looking sad herself, like she knew Dean wasn’t coming back.

Sam’s feet at some point moved on their own accord. They carried him towards the car. He felt like crying again. 

He unlocked the passenger side. The driver’s side was Dean’s. It had been his spot since he had turned sixteen and Dad had given the impala to him for his birthday. Sam had ridden shotgun. Those were their spots. 

He slipped into the seat and it felt like coming home. The smell of leather embraced him. A glance in the back told him the army man was still in the ash tray. He would bet money if he turned the air on LEGOs would rattle.

What was around the Rearview mirror made him cry. Sam didn’t know how he still had tears to shed. He had to be dehydrated by now. 

It was Dean’s necklace. The amulet Sam had given him a life time ago. When he was little and still getting used to his dad’s disappointments. Dean had never taken it off. 

He carefully grabbed it from the mirror and slid it over his head. Holding the little horned charm until it bit into his palm. 

It was too quiet. The impala was never quiet. Even when she wasn’t running, because there was always someone else in there with him. 

Sam shuffled over to the drivers side and started her. The impala purred gratefully around him. The Led Zeppelin tape blared to life. 

“Mullet-head rock, dude?” Sam sobbed out. It was the last thing Dean had listened to. The thought pressed more tears out of his eyes. 

A note on the dashboard finally caught his attention. It had a phone number scrawled out in Dad’s handwriting. 

‘Call if you need anything’ 

Sam didn’t blame his dad for not sticking around. He didn’t know what he would have said either. Dean had always said him and Dad were more similar then they thought. 

Sam didn’t think. He didn’t know when it happened, but next thing he knew he was putting the car in drive. He hit the gas and sped out into the street. 

He drove aimlessly, pushing the speed limits, until he got to old dirt back roads. It had taken a while, Palo Alto wasn’t exactly the boondocks. 

Sam pushed the impala faster. She roared under him. He took turns too fast and could practically hear Dean scold him for riding the breaks. 

That thought made him drive faster. Led Zeppelin blaring through the car, speeding down empty back roads. This had been Dean’s heaven. This had been what he had lived for. This freedom. 

Sam let out a delirious laugh. His tears dried on his face. His chest still hurt, ached so terribly. 

In the moment though, with the impala and classic rock roaring around him as the country side raced by, Sam felt just a little better. As if his brother was right there with him, laughing too.


	2. The Expert on Hauntings and all Things Ghosty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s back? For how long?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically I decided to give this an actual plot instead of just some random brotherly angst.

Two months passed and Sam fell into a routine. He walked to class, did his school work, and drove the impala whenever he could. He wore Dean’s leather jacket whenever the weather permitted otherwise he kept it under his pillow. The necklace, Sam never took it off. He spent the weekends with friends at parties, bars, or small gatherings. He smiled and laughed when it was expected of him and he pretended to care about whatever his friends were talking about. 

His routine was forced. Everything felt forced. His smiles hurt his cheeks and his laughter made his lungs ache. His friends would talk and complain about things and all Sam could do was think how stupid it was. 

How could they complain about their term paper when there were people who didn’t get this opportunity? How could they complain about a professor when there were people who didn’t get a higher education in order to keep people safe from the things in the dark?

Dean had been one of those people. Sam’s brother had been so smart. He had never appreciated it because Dean had never applied himself in school. 

Now that he’s older he knew Dean didn’t get the luxury of focusing on his school work. His brother was smart though, he could take apart and rebuild the impala or a gun with his eyes close. He could fix any appliance, and feed them (Sam) for weeks with twenty dollars. He could find patterns and different angles no one else would have thought of. 

God, Sam missed Dean. This had been a default setting since he left for Stanford, but now it was a larger hole. He knew Dean couldn’t come back. He couldn’t call Dean to ask about a hunt or for advice. Dean couldn’t email him and ask how class was going. 

He stuck to his routine, no matter how tedious it felt or how much it hurt, it kept him from doing something he’d regret, something Dean wouldn’t want him to do. Sam had an itch. An itch he had had since his run the day his dad called. 

He wanted to hunt. It had been a year since he hunted. There was so much evil in the world Sam felt like he could drown in it all. Dean had made the world a safer place by killing monsters and now that was the only thing that felt worth doing. 

Sam held off. He studied and tried to focus on getting the courage to ask the blonde haired girl Jessica Moore out on a date. It worked. Not the date, he was still too chicken, but the distraction. 

Until he looked at the news and saw Dean. 

Okay, it wasn’t Dean. It almost looked like him. If Sam squinted and didn’t think too hard it looked exactly almost like Dean. The man’s name was Jason Grace. He was found alone in his apartment in a town forty five minutes from Palo Alto with his brain ripped from his skull. There was no sign of a forced entry. 

It screamed monster and evil. Before Sam knew what he was doing he had researched the case, put together that it was a ghost, and packed his bags. 

Sam didn’t stop to actually think about his actions until he was sitting the driver’s seat of the impala with his seat belt half way across his chest. The trunk still held all of its weapons. He stared out into the dark parking lot. 

If he did this, could he go back? Would he ever stop? Could he do both? 

A glance at the printed news article in the passenger seat caught his eye. People were dying. From Sam’s research he discovered they were lonely people. People who weren’t in close contact with family and had few friends. 

Dean had never mentioned it to Sam, but Dean hated being alone. Dean would rave about having a motel room to himself but his voice always sounded hallow. Dean may not have been alone when he passed but he had spent who knew how long alone and had feared it. 

That man wasn’t Dean, Sam knew that. He also knew that he couldn’t have saved Dean, but he could save the next person. He could kill this monster and make the world a little less dark. 

With Dean gone the world needed all the help it could get. 

Sam tucked that thought close to his heart as he cranked the radio to a country station Dean would have hated. Shifting the impala to drive to pulled out of the parking lot. 

———-/

Sam watched the grave below him go up in flames. His lungs burned from the physical exertion of fighting off a ghost and digging up a grave at the same time. The adrenaline coursed through his veins and for the first time in months he felt alive. 

After the flames died down he covered the coffin of Gabe Stinkman and gathered his weapons. The trek back to the impala was a peaceful one. The moon was high in the sky and a warm breeze gently tousled the trees surrounding the graveyard. 

Sam can’t help the peaceful feeling settle in his stomach. He had finally scratched his itch. The mosquito bite that had been pestering him was finally satisfied. 

For now. 

Sam ignored that thought for now, in favor of cherishing the peaceful feeling inside. 

He dropped his bag of weapons into the false bottom of the impala’s trunk. After making sure the trunk was locked, he settled himself into the driver’s seat. 

He ran a hand through his hair. A true smile breaking his face. He remembered the feeling of his iron rod slicing through the ghost, saving a boy younger then Sam who was living on his own after his parents found out he was gay. He remembered the boy’s smile of gratitude. 

Sam moved to place the keys into the ignition when the radio snapped on. It flickered from Hootie and the Blowfish to Led Zeppelin before the volume cranked up. Keys still in Sam’s hand the impala roared to life and exploded backwards from the curb it was parked against. 

Sam tried to control the spinning wheel but the impala had a mind of its own. It narrowly avoided missing several trees as it spun through donuts and figure eights. The ride caused an unbuckled Sam to tumble around inside the car. 

Finally the car came to a screeching halt. Sam sat up from where he had been tossed across the bench seat. His rapid breathing fogged in front of his face. 

“Dean?” Sam called into the empty car, feeling stupid. “Dean, are you there?” 

No answer. Of course. 

Sam shook his head and moved to put the keys into the ignition once again. The impala roared to life without protest, Sam’s top 20 pop count down filled the car. 

He sighed, what ever that was, it was gone now. Shaking himself from the unnerving event he shifted the car to drive and eased down the road. 

Sam had just about made it to the highway when he finally began to calm down. He rekindled that peaceful feeling and enjoyed the ride back to school. 

“Hiya, Sammy.” Sam swerved the car, narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic and the ditch. “Woah, easy tiger, that’s my baby you’re driving.”

Sam slammed on the breaks, pulled the car over, and threw it into park. He stared at the passenger seat where his dead brother now sat. 

Dean looked the same. No blood marred his features. No hole could be found. He looked just as he did the last time Sam had saw him, complete with his crooked smile. 

“Dean?” Sam barely felt the name leave his lips. “What- you-dead...I-I-“

“Don’t hurt yourself there, college boy.” Dean flickered in and out of vision in the passenger seat. 

“Ghost.” Sam whispered. 

“Now you’re using that big brain of yours.” Dean sat back in the seat. 

“But, how-“ Sam took a moment to put together an actual complete sentence. 

“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged. “The last thing a remember was handful of snarling vampires on top of me.” 

He said it so nonchalantly, but Sam could see the hint of horror in Dean’s eyes. He suppressed a shudder, against the chill of the impala or the thought of vampires tearing into his brother, he isn’t sure. 

“That was two months ago.” Sam said. “Have you been here this whole time?” 

“Um,” Dean scrunched his eyebrows in focus, “everything is kinda hazy here. I think I remember trying to talk to you, but I couldn’t make you see me.” 

“Huh.” Suddenly a thought struck him. “Dean, What are you attached to? It’s not the impala is it?”

God, if Sam had to burn the impala- No, Sam didn’t think he could ever bring himself to burn his home. 

“No, thank God, it’s that amulet you gave me for Christmas that one year.” Dean explained, eyeing the amulet that rested on Sam’s chest. Sam’s hand unconsciously came up to clutch it. 

“So,” Sam roughly cleared his throat in order to force words through it, “we gotta burn it?” 

“Dude!” Dean looked borderline offended. 

“What? You’re a ghost, Dean. You can’t stay this way forever.” Sam threw his hands up in frustration. “I’m not going to hunt you.”

“You didn’t have a problem hunting Gabriel Stinkman.” Dean gave him a weighted look. 

“Don’t you want to go to heaven? Don’t you want to be with mom and be at peace?” Sam asked, ignoring Dean’s comment. 

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I believe in a heaven.” Dean looked down. “Even if there is I’m not sure I’d go there anyway.” 

“What are you talking about?” Sam’s voice softened. “Of course you’d go to heaven. There’s no other place you would belong.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m sure the angels or whoever will take your opinion into account.” Dean scoffed, looking uncomfortable. 

“Well, I’m not burning you on the side of the road.” Sam shifted the car into gear and carefully pulled back on to the road. 

“Gee, thanks, Sammy.” Dean snorted and gave that lopsided smile. 

“So how’s school?” Dean asked after a couple of miles of awkward silence. 

Sam scoffed. He had been praying for months for one more minute with his brother. This was his moment and they were going to talk about school? Sam couldn’t come up with anything better? 

“Fine.” Sam shrugged. 

“Come on,” Dean goaded. “Give your dead brother something. Is there a cute girl?”

Sam just glared at his brother’s ghost and huffed. Even with his annoyed little brother face on he still felt his cheeks redden. 

“Cute boy?” Dean asked and it made Sam snap his head to look at him with wide eyes. “What? You gotta problem with that sorta thing?”

“No!” Sam quickly exclaimed. Why did Dean look defensive? “I-I’m not-not- I don’t have a problem with other people’s sexualities or identity or anything. I’m just not. I’m straight.” 

Dean squinted his eyes at him for a fraction of a second before he wiped all emotion from his face besides nonchalance. That was weird. Dean never mentioned anything about that before. 

“Are you?” Sam asked. “Straight?” 

“Um, no, not really.” Dean scratched at the back of his neck. Apparently even as a ghost you kept nervous habits. 

“Meaning...” Sam prompted when it was clear Dean didn’t plan on elaborating. 

“I’m bi?” It came out a question. Then a statement. “I’m bi.” 

“Okay.” Sam tried to hide his utter surprise with nonchalance and a nod. “So, um, when did you figure it out?” 

“I had a feeling I liked guys too when I was like fourteen. I didn’t know for sure until I was...twenty? Twenty.” Dean shrugged. 

“Huh.” Sam said, feeling like he was going to cry. He wouldn’t have known that. He would have gone the rest of his life thinking his brother had been straight.

“So... cute girl?” Dean asked, eye brows raised. “Come on, Sammy, you’re in college. College chicks, college parties, tell me you haven’t been spending the entire time nerding out.” 

“Yes, Dean I’ve gone to parties.” Sam rolled his eyes, pointedly ignoring the girl question. 

“So there is a girl?” Dean pressed. 

“It’s none of your business.” Sam grumbled while he blushed. 

“Come on, Sammy! I’m dead. Give me the gossip, I promise I won’t tell all my dead ghost friends.” Sam flinched a little at Dean’s words. He didn’t need the reminder that his brother was dead. 

“Fine.” Sam relented. His brother obviously wasn’t going to let up and if this was how he wanted to spend his last few minutes with Sam, then this was how they were going to spend it. “Her name’s Jessica.”

“And...” Dean looked at him with bright eager eyes. They would almost looked alive if he couldn’t see the window of the impala through them. 

“She’s in my cultural studies class.” Sam appeased his brother. “She’s going in to the medical field. She’s really smart, nice, funny. She’s got a nice laugh.”

“Is she hot?” Dean asked with a wolffish grin. 

“Yes, Dean.” Sam huffed. “She’s hot.” 

“She sounds completely out of your league.” Dean’s smile turns teasing. 

For the next half an hour the Sam and Dean’s ghost talked. They described what they had been up to since the last time they talked. They told shared stories from their childhood they both knew. They told different stories they had lived through separately but got to enjoy together now. 

When Sam pulled the impala into a parking lot of the park a block from his apartment the mood darkened. Dean gave him a tight lipped smile that was supposed to be reassuring. 

Sam forced himself to move. He got out of the car, amulet grasped painfully in his hand. Tears were already welling in his eyes. He tried his best to wipe them away before Dean could see them. 

His dead brother didn’t really follow him the couple paces to the top of a small hill in the park. He more so vanished from the car and reappeared when Sam stopped. For a terrifying second he thought his brother wouldn’t come back. 

“See you later, bitch.” Dean said with a sad smile as Sam brought the lighter up to the amulet. 

“Yeah,” he roughly clearer his throat. “See you later, jerk.”

Sam dropped the amulet onto the grass when the flames started to lick at his fingers. They watched it burn. 

And burn. Dean squeezed his eyes tight. 

And burn. Dean peaked one eye open. 

Before the flame sputtered and went out. 

“Uh, I would say I’m not an expert, but I am. Shouldn’t I have just went up in flames?” Dean crouched to look at the amulet that sat unharmed on the grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final is in 1.5 hrs and I can’t deal !!!!!!!!
> 
> Also I know the amulet is metal and in the show it glows in the presence of Chuck or whatever, but this is an AU and everything in supernatural seems to burn so just don’t over examine it.


End file.
